


Hell is Empty

by Madlymiho



Series: Web of Disasters [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Brutal Murder, M/M, Psychology, Reconciliation Sex, Revenge, Smut, Smut in chaper 3, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madlymiho/pseuds/Madlymiho
Summary: Yorknew City Prison, middle of September, unknown year.Kurapika can’t remember how he ended up here amongst scum and delinquents. He has forgotten everything, living only with wrecked memories of a blurry accident. Still, in this hostile environment, deprived of any kind of help, and in order to survive, he has to dig inside of himself, becoming what he has always despised: a ruthless figure, capable of great violence. Yet, inside his empty mind, an old tune won’t stop playing. Deep down, Kurapika lives with the memory of a vague promise made a long time ago. He knows it deeply, all the way down to his core. One day, somebody will find him. And this unknown person will save him.





	1. All the Devils Are Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> YES IT IS HAPPENING !! I'm BACK !  
> To perfectly understand the plot, I highly suggest you read the previous part of this work !  
> As always, I want to warn you about my work : it's going to be violent (more than the two previous parts), smut in chapter 3 and everything nasty I can write! 
> 
> However if you're ready to take a seat on the Sins' Train: WELCOME BACK ! And enjoy your ride!
> 
> Don't hesitate to comment or to leave a kuddo... It's always a pleasure to share my stories with you all :) 
> 
> A special thank you to me beta reader @supersaiyanhollow for her help ! ♥

What day was it? What year? Everytime he tried to focus on it, he simply couldn’t remember. This was normal, the doctors had said. He had had a very violent accident, leading him to become deeply traumatized. He had been shot. Why? He wasn’t sure, and no one had been able to give him a clear answer. All he knew was that someone had dropped him inside a hospital and had left him there. Why he couldn’t remember anything, well, the doctors had offered him some kind of explanation. They had said that his brain was somehow protecting itself from the bad memories of that night, a way of burying the truth he couldn’t handle at the moment, and that maybe one day he would be able to recover every little fragment he had forgotten. They had asked him to be patient, that being shot was brutal, and moreover, that he had lost consciousness for a long time. He had to accept the fact that he had to go easy on himself, especially with his memory. Yet, it had been months. Months that  Kurapika went through without knowing why he was incarcerated inside the most secure quarter of Yorknew City Prison. Why he had been treated like an outcast since he had stepped foot inside these walls. Nobody had an answer; silence was his only response. 

 

After his slow, yet partial recovery, he had had to go to his own trial, during early spring, the most disturbing moment of his entire life. He had had to respond to numerous counts, each of them related to the famous Phantom Troupe: robbery, murder, and extortion. Each word had felt like a punch to his empty heart as he had wished fervently that he was trapped inside a vicious nightmare and that he would wake up soon. He had dismissed all the counts, trying desperately to convince the judges that he had had nothing to do with those criminals. Yet, the bad dream hadn’t ended there. After being proclaimed guilty of his crimes, even if he had claimed that he couldn’t remember any of them, he had been imprisoned without any hope of ever getting out. The court had asked for life imprisonment, claiming that he was known and certified as a member of the Phantom Troupe, and that he had to be an example for the rest of them. As always, cruel blind justice had been against him, and Kurapika became trapped in  a new kind of Hell. 

 

Days had become weeks. Weeks had become months. Kurapika had remained stuck in this version of his life, somewhere he couldn’t escape, unable to see nor understand why he had been imprisoned. Everyone despised him, wanted him dead or worse, and his first days in the prison had been harsh enough to force him to change his attitude. At first, he had adopted a low profile, preferring to stay away from the rest of the prisoners. He hadn’t been able to eat, shower, or even enjoy his “free” time. Like a rat in a cage, he had lived inside his lonely box, praying that he would be forgotten by the others. But then, the guards had forced him to blend in with the crowd, making them aware of his presence. It had been his second trial. Strangely, nothing had happened for months; there had just been an inconspicuous yet palpable  tension around him, something that had made him feel insecure, even paranoid. He had heard that many gangs in the prison were there because of the Phantom Troupe. Not that the Troupe had thrown them under the bus back then, but mostly because they had tried to overcome them and had ended up being caught by the police. Naturally, they had all started to hate the free members of the Phantom Troupe, known and recognized by the society as the most dangerous criminals and thieves ever, as they were all behind bars, trapped for life, denied of their sweet revenge. Kurapika had understood that he was their target; someone they would hate no matter what. 

 

Nine months later, the old and innocent Kurapika was gone for good. After being the victim of many sneak attacks, he had had to protect his own life. He had learnt violence and anger, inside that strange theater which was prison, somehow unveiling a nature he had never been aware of. 

 

“Still reading this shit?” a voice asked, ringing like a bell inside Kurapika’s ears. 

 

He looked above his open book and sighed. “What do you want, Tonpa?” 

 

A middle-age adult entered his cell, hands in his pockets, gazing at Kurapika like he was some kind of treat. Tonpa wasn’t his cell-mate, but he was terribly annoying. Since he had been in the prison, several months ago, charged for fraud, he had developed an unhealthy obsession for Kurapika. He wanted to possess him in a certain ugly way, craving affection he couldn’t get anywhere else. It wasn’t as if Kurapika had wanted his attention; he had ignored Tonpa like everyone else. Yet, being ignored, instead of violently rejected, had been an invitation for Tonpa, even if this had never been the case. 

 

“I just want to spend some time with you,” Tonpa answered, as he invited himself inside the cell, walking straight to Kurapika’s bed. “You weren’t at lunch today. You’re playing with fire again, Kurapika.”

 

“You know I don’t fucking care.” Kurapika sighed, still focused on his book. He froze once he felt Tonpa’s hand on his thigh. “What are you doing?” 

 

Tonpa smirked in the ugliest way he could. Kurapika had to force himself not to look at him.

 

“I’m just a lonely man. I want some nice company,” Tomba whispered, his hand trailing up  Kurapika’s thigh. 

 

Kurapika shivered. It wasn’t because he was aroused seeing as Tonpa was almost as attractive as the inside of a garbage can. He didn’t shiver because he liked being touched by another man. It was like his skin was reacting to a memory he couldn’t remember. A gentle touch from loving hands, always kind and respectful, yet harsh when they needed to be. Someone had touched him this way…Someone that had mattered. Who was he? He was sure it wasn’t a girl. He always remembered a very muscular body and abyssal grey eyes. And that playful smile with those inviting lips. They were soft and warm like they were made of satin and feathers, only for him, anytime he had craved them. What was this memory? Another twisted torture of his mind? Was that man only a fantasy? No one had visited him except a far too friendly psychiatrist. 

 

“See..? You like it…,” Tonpa hummed, notifying Kurapika of his abject presence. 

 

Unamused, Kurapika jerked his hand away, finally looking at him with dark eyes.

 

“Get off, pervert,” he hissed, more than angry. 

 

“Come on...Let yourself go,” Tonpa purred, coming closer than before, almost lying himself over Kurapika’s body. “I know you’ll like it... _ kitten _ .”

 

Deeply, like a wound he had completely forgotten about, he felt an electrical salvo strike his spine. He wrapped his fingers around Tonpa’s collar and slammed him against the wall, eyes like a ravenous fire.

 

“What did you just call me?” he yelled, his breathing short and erratic. “Don’t you fucking think I want to do anything with you! Touch me again, you bastard, and I’ll make you swallow your teeth one by one!” In order to illustrate his statement, Kurapika hit Tonpa with one strong punch to his jaw. “Don’t fucking come here anymore and go find yourself a fucking prison slut elsewhere, scumbag!”

 

He threw Tonpa out of his bed, more violently than he had never done before. Tonpa  had to take a few seconds before he could lift himself up. He looked at Kurapika while massaging his jaw. 

 

“You will regret this,” he said, pointing a promiseful finger at Kurapika. “I was your only friend here…” 

 

Kurapika smirked nonchalantly. “Friend? That’s how you justify your rape attempts? I’m not your friend, Tonpa. Never been and never will.” 

 

Tonpa puffed, his face deformed by anger. “Your days are numbered, fucker.” 

 

“You know my cell number, bastard.” 

 

Tonpa finally decided to go away, leaving Kurapika with his own thoughts. He didn’t care anymore if his life was threatened; somehow he had accepted that a long time ago. What was irritating him was that strange sensation he had all over his body.  _ Kitten _ . Why did he suspect that the mysterious man he remembered called him kitten too? Why did it sound so right in his mouth? Why had he felt like he suddenly needed to be touched by him, already imagining something smooth and wonderful? His mind was playing with him. He had never been loved that way before, yet he had craved it. If someone truly cared about him, he was certain that this man would have shown up at the gates of the prison a long time ago. No one had came, though. No one had touched him, nor protected him. He had been alone since the very beginning. 

 

“Kitten…,” Kurapika whispered, as he laid down onto his mattress, his eyes gravitating towards  the roof. “I wish you were real…,” he added to himself, turning his head to look at the wall. He needed a good nap at the moment. 

 

He didn’t know it yet, but the worst was still to come. 

 

* * *

 

Pain had always been a part of his life. When he was starving, pain had been there to keep him company, tearing apart his stomach until he would feel an empty hole inside his belly. Pain had been inside his loss of humanity, or perhaps his lack of it; it was a long time ago, how could he remember? He had been born and raised in pain, suffering surrounding his life like a hungry animal waiting patiently in a dark corner. He remembered that he used to be afraid of pain, especially when he was younger. And yet, he had grown old and cold, morphing like a dark butterfly to embrace a life without feelings. Like a strange sickness, he had finally started to be insensitive, until he had thought that he had overcome pain. He was bulletproof. Murdering people was suddenly easier. Robberies too. It had become something mechanical, and Chrollo had always thought that it was simply his cruel destiny. He was a puppet without a heart to love or to feel, unable to see the horror he spread nor the crimes he was always willing to commit. He didn’t care, nothing was wrong for him. After all, he had just seen what was his version of humanity. No help, no love, no saviors. His vision of the world was his only truth, and no one would be able to change it anyways. For years, this had been true. 

 

Until he had known  _ him _ . Until he had held him tightly against his torso while he was bleeding out because he had caught the bullets that should have killed him instead. This man had turned his life completely upside down in less than a year, and now that he was away from him, he felt more bitter than ever. Like an old and forgotten friend, pain had pawed at the door of his broken heart, clenching its claws inside his flesh, so deeply he couldn't spend a day without thinking about it. Kurapika was gone. He had had to leave him in that hospital and he had never gotten a chance to get him back. The police had their civic duty; they had put him away, somewhere he couldn’t reach. At first, he had truly wanted to visit Kurapika, disguised under a false identity, but after a long night of reflection, he had understood how stupid that idea was. Kurapika didn’t need to see him in prison: he had to get him out. His lover didn’t belong there. Even if Kurapika and Chrollo had shared a profound and real passion, in the end, there was only one guilty here. The only crime Kurapika had committed was to fall in love with him. 

 

So, Chrollo had decided that he had to react. He couldn’t let Kurapika be remain in prison for crimes he hadn’t committed. But for that, Chrollo would have to be patient, because infiltrating the most secure prison in the world wouldn’t be a piece of cake. After what happened at the auctions, the Troupe had taken some time to think properly. First, because one of them had betrayed them, and even if they had known them for a long time, that dark shadow would linger  to mock them. Hisoka was a target to put down, yet, they had all agreed that he wasn’t the priority for the moment. Indeed, Yorknew City had become a dangerous cop’s haven since the auctions had been attacked by both the Phantom Troupe and the Snake Mafia. Many citizens had died thanks to the police’s sloppiness and being unable to react quickly. Thus, the tension had reached its highest degree and chasing a clown among the police and soldiers patrolling everywhere twenty four hours a day wasn’t the most brilliant idea. Even if they all craved revenge, they needed to wait at the moment. Hisoka would pay for his treason. 

 

That easily, they had decided that Kurapika needed to be rescued. After all, they had all voted for him to live a long time ago, and he had never betrayed the Troupe, even during the auctions where he may have had a window to escape. Plus, he had been shot because he had protected Chrollo, and somehow, they all owed him. After Kurapika’s trial, Shalnark had hacked the prison system to have proper access to every camera there. Then, they would be able to keep an eye on him, and of course, it was the perfect way to prepare their evacuation plan. All they needed was a window. However, that particular window seemed strangely hard to reach. 

 

They had discovered something terrible: Kurapika was amnesiac. He had forgotten everything about the Troupe, and moreover, he had erased Chrollo from his memory. For the leader of the Troupe, it had been quite a shock. The massive relief he had felt from Kurapika’s recovery had disappeared instantly as soon as he had realized that he wouldn’t wait for him. Why would he expect for someone he didn’t know to come? It had smashed Chrollo’s hopes. And then, that easily, he had became obsessed with watching Kurapika every day, evolving inside his new terrible environnement. He had seen him change, noticing how brutal he could be whenever he was in danger. For Chrollo, it was both a relief and a concern. Chrollo wasn’t there to protect him. He wasn’t there to claim Kurapika’s heart and body like he had always done. Eventually, Chrollo had reached an all new degree of hatred once Tonpa had came inside the prison. He had immediately noticed how the man was strangely attracted to Kurapika, coming inside his cell everyday, trying to get some attention or cuddles. Every time he had made Chrollo lose his mind. Every time he had smashed his things, yelling at his screen that Kurapika was his and only his. Even the Troupe had started to pity their boss. Chrollo was more bitter than ever, and Tonpa didn’t know it, but he was about to experience the hardest time of his life,  _ soon _ . 

 

That night, once again, Chrollo was highly pissed off by Tonpa’s behavior. From his computer screen, he looked at the little fat greedy man trying to seduce his lover. Yet, Kurapika had reacted weirdly, and for a second, Chrollo had feared that he would finally agree to give him what he wanted. But things had escalated and Kurapika had somehow rejected Tonpa in the most dangerous way he could. 

 

“Your days are numbered, fucker,” Tompa had said.

 

And Chrollo had smiled brightly because the window he had hoped for had just been created. 

 

“Paku,” Chrollo called as he stood up from his chair. “I have a question.” 

 

She immediately joined him, eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“Yes, Danchou?” 

 

Chrollo showed her the screen. 

 

“Who in the prison is Kurapika’s most dangerous enemy?” he asked, sounding confident.

 

She patted her chin, looking at the screen. “The Shadow Beasts for sure. I heard they wanted to doublecross us when we robbed King Meruem’s jewels. They’re all serving for life.” 

 

Chrollo’s smile widened. “We need to start a fire. This Tonpa will be the oil we need.” 

 

“What’s your plan?” another voice asked. Nobunaga entered the room followed by Phinks. 

 

“Let’s start a war. After all, we’re good at it, right?” 

 

Phinks nodded and Nobunaga approved with a gesture of his head. 

 

“So, what do you want to do, Danchou?” Pakunoda eventually asked, saying out loud what everyone was already thinking. 

 

Chrollo turned his head and looked back at the screen. Kurapika was lying on his bed, his eyes looking directly at the roof. 

 

“I want a mutiny. Let’s put a price on Kurapika’s head in order to divide them all. We’ll use Tonpa to spread the information. And once every part of the prison is engulfed by the flames, we’ll have our tickets in. After all…There are so many dangerous criminals. They will need extra hands.” 

 

Pakunoda sighed loudly and walked to Chrollo’s side. She gently patted his shoulder. “He’ll be in danger, Danchou. Are you sure you want to do this? He won’t remember you.” 

 

Chrollo nodded, more than sure this time. It felt like an urge: he needed to hold him. 

 

“I’ll make him remember. I owe him.” He looked back on them with soft eyes. The entire Troupe had entered the room while they were all speaking. “We all owe him.” 

 

* * *

  
Kurapika gently tapped the grey table, waiting patiently for his appointment to begin. Even if he wasn’t really comfortable with the prison’s therapy, it was at least a way to escape his daily life. The room was welcoming as well, truly different from the rest of the prison. There was a huge window without bars where a soft and inviting light was illuminating the entire room. Some plants had been placed here and there, bringing some life to the dreary walls. It almost felt familiar: that grey desk, which would have been better if it would have been made of wood; that dark couch; and the disposition of the furniture. Everything looked like an old and repetitive dream. Even the therapist’s entrance looked familiar. 

 

“Ah dammit,” he said, entering the room, then slamming the door behind him. “Why do they always feel the need to call when I’m with a patient! I’m sorry, Kurapika.” 

 

He walked straight to his desk and offered his hand to Kurapika. He squeezed it softly, somehow amused by his doctor’s behavior. 

 

“It seems that you are busy man, Dr. Paladiknight,” Kurapika replied, crossing his legs to be more comfortable.

 

“How many times do I need to ask you to call me Leorio?” 

 

Leorio Paladiknight. The only true friend Kurapika had inside without knowing it. To him, he was just a friendly therapist, adjusting his schedule to be at the prison in between his appointments at the hospital where he usually worked. Yet, what he didn’t know was that Leorio only had come for him since he had been incarcerated. After all, he had forgotten that he had been his doctor once. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika answered. “It’s not always easy to cross that line. You’re a good doctor, Leorio. But, you certainly don’t want someone like me to be friendly with you.”

 

Leorio waved his hand like he was banishing Kurapika’s statement away.

 

“I’m convinced that you’re innocent, Kurapika. You’re not one of those animals, and I’m here to help you.” He quickly opened his suitcase and took his notebook out. “Shall we begin? Couch or chair?” 

 

“I’d rather be on the chair. Your couch is too comfortable, I might fall asleep.” 

 

They both laughed at Kurapika’s joke. It was always appreciable, how the atmosphere seemed warm and loving whenever they saw each other. Leorio was truly did help Kurapika. Since the beginning, he had always claimed that Kurapika was innocent, and even if the young man couldn’t quite understand why he would say that, he had enjoyed that help. Leorio seemed brave and confident, enough to bring joy and relief to Kurapika’s life. He had been able to endure prison for so many months entirely thanks to Leorio. He had a certain gift that made his inner-sunshine bright whenever he was around, and being treated as a human being made him realize that deep down he wasn’t a violent person. Leorio had always reassured him whenever he had been in trouble, fighting for his life inside the prison. He had witnessed how Kurapika had had to change to become something bitter. All Leorio had wanted from him was to know that he wasn’t losing himself down that dark path. 

 

“How do you feel today, Kurapika?” Leorio eventually asked, tapping the top of his pen on the notebook, adjusting his glasses on his nose. 

 

Kurapika, however, couldn’t help but sigh. “Not so good, I have to confess.” 

 

Leorio succeeded to hide his discomfort. He simply wrote what Kurapika had just said, smoothly avoiding any eye contact. 

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

 

“That’s why I’m here, right?” Kurapika giggled uncomfortably as well, wriggling in his chair. 

 

Leorio furrowed his eyebrows, deeply concerned. Kurapika wasn’t the type of guy to show any problems in general especially since he had ended up here. Seeing him this way was somehow truly disturbing for Leorio. 

 

“Okay…Talk about it freely. I won’t ask you questions for the moment, just let your feelings go and we’ll figure out how to manage them. Okay?” 

 

Kurapika nodded, trying to find his words. It was like he was already insane. Whenever he felt his own skin under his touch, it was like someone else was caressing him. He didn’t know if his brain was playing an awful trick on him or if he was actually remembering something. He clenched his fist on his lap and looked at Leorio.

 

“I think...I was in love with someone. I mean...Before my accident. I was in love,” Kurapika eventually whispered, noticing how hard it was to say it. His heart was churning on itself like what he had just said wasn’t acceptable. 

 

Leorio managed to hide his shock. For a second, his pen had hovered over the paper like he was simply unable to write what he had just heard. Months ago, Leorio had seen Kurapika run up the stairs of the auction room to join Chrollo, yet, he had wanted to erase the reason why he had did it. Back then, he had thought that Kurapika was just lost in his life, and that somehow Chrollo was someone who had manipulated him enough to achieve his aim. Leorio had always thought that Chrollo had a perverted goal, something deeply twisted. But now that Kurapika had forgotten everything about Chrollo and his connection to the Phantom Troupe, his feelings were nothing but something pure of any memory. Kurapika was in love and it was true. And for Leorio, the truth hurt like hell. 

 

“You’re…Mmh...You don’t want to write that?” Kurapika asked softly, looking at Leorio’s unmoving hand. 

 

“Yes, I’m writing it,” Leorio answered, hiding his concern. As he said that, he wrote the sentence even if deep down it took almost all of his energy to do so. He offered Kurapika a reassuring smile. “I was just thinking about your previous session and it seems that you are right…” 

 

“Right about what? That I was in love with someone?” 

 

Leorio swallowed his spit very harshly. He didn’t want to tell Kurapika the truth about Chrollo, but he couldn’t hide Kurapika’s feelings nor denythem. He sighed and nodded, staring deeply into Kurapika. 

 

“Yes, all of that. It has always been like you were trying to remember something. But the answer wasn’t something. It was  _ someone _ .” Leorio had to write this as well. He felt twisted. On one hand, Kurapika’s love was real and deep enough to be unforgettable. On the other hand, his love was for someone who had killed his entire family. “Tell me Kurapika, you’re talking in the past tense about your love. The question is, are you still in love with that someone?” 

 

Kurapika opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came. He stayed silent, only looking at Leorio’s face. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. 

 

“Can I be? I don’t know this person. It’s just like a shadow. Sometimes it envelops me at night and it feels like someone is holding me tightly.” Kurapika let a pregnant pause go by, his eyes looking into space. He sighed loudly. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?” 

 

Leorio moved in his chair, suddenly a little bit more uncomfortable than usual. Indeed, he had lied to Kurapika since the beginning, but now, he understood that his patient was on the defensive. Slowly, but surely, he had managed to feel that something was wrong about his situation. 

 

Kurapika clenched his fist and sent him a passionate yet enigmatic look. “I think that’s enough for today.” 

 

“Kurapika…I-” 

 

“Stop that, now!” Kurapika almost jumped to his feet, glancing at Leorio like the man had just insulted him. “I said that’s enough!” 

 

“Kurapika, listen, I’m just trying to help you. You’ve been through a lot, you know. I’m your friend here.” 

 

As soon as Leorio said it, he knew that he had crossed a line. He couldn’t say something that powerful to someone as broken as Kurapika. 

 

“Seriously? My friend?” Kurapika smirked arrogantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t know anything about me! You’re just another shrink, suddenly attracted by the poor young blondie boy in jail!” He slammed his fists on the desk, making Leorio stand up almost violently. “You don’t know shit, doc, right? Behind your glasses, there’s nothing but theories and books, but  _ my _ life and  _ my _ feelings are just another enigma!” 

 

Leorio wanted to answer, but the doors had burst open and a bunch of guards had entered the room. They immediately dealt with Kurapika and Leorio understood that he wouldn’t have any chance to explain himself today. Kurapika tried to move, furiously spitting some insults, yet a precise hit behind his neck made him shut up for good. Like a puppet, he remained silent and docile. 

 

“I’ll make a report of that,” Leorio said, looking angrily at the two men. 

 

One of them shrugged his shoulders, a little vicious smile twisting the corners of his lips. 

 

“You can do that, doc. No one will give a shit about this one.” He shook Kurapika several times, but he remained unconscious. “After all, he’s a member of the Phantom Troupe. Fortunately for him, he hasn’t been tattooed yet, otherwise, a price would have been put on his skin. That little pinch behind his head would have been the least of your worries, doc.” 

 

His colleague laughed and they left the room. Leorio crossed his arms against his chest and tried to compose himself. He felt terribly guilty. He should have been a better friend to Kurapika; now it felt like he wouldn’t have been able to reach him anyways. Kurapika seemed lost, and somehow, Leorio knew it was his fault. 

 

* * *

 

Once Kurapika was back in his cell, after the guards had thrown him there nonchalantly, he immediately noticed something different. Well, it wasn’t possible to miss the huge graffiti on the wall, painted in red lines. He looked at the text and felt his heart race inside his chest; finally, it had begun. Months of tension and dark looks had brought him to this point. 

 

_ “We are coming for you. All the Devils Are Here.”  _

 

Kurapika smiled, crossing his arms as he put his back against the other wall of his cell in order to admire the writing. The previous sensation of being held by someone stroked his back, and strangely, it gave him some confidence. He didn’t know why, but he felt like the message was in fact a blessing. Someone was coming for him. Someone he craved. He continued to smile, self-confidence enveloping him like a soft and cozy blanket.

 

“You better hurry, then,” he whispered as the invisible arms caressed his pale skin.  


	2. A Merciless Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one will fool you, kitten. You’re unbreakable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOO everyone !!!
> 
> Finally, I'm back and ready to share with you my new chapter ! 
> 
> Darker than the previous one, I wanted to show you my abilities to describe twisted feelings AND VIOLENCE!  
> So yes, you've been warned, now sit and enjoy your reading :D 
> 
> As always, a special thanks to my lovely friend @supersaiyanhollow ! Nothing is possible without her, she's soooo dedicated and talented ! You should really check her works as well ! 
> 
> Of course, I'll be more than happy to read your comments, so don't hesitate to share with me your feelings and your reactions ! I love to talk with you ; you're a fuel for my story !
> 
> Enjoy :)

_ “We are coming for you. All the Devils Are Here.”  _

 

What should have worried him had actually made him even stronger. What should have destroyed him had reinforced something deep within him. He knew his mind was twisted; he didn’t think properly, he was on the edge of madness. The terrible smile on his face, which had grown several seconds before, wouldn’t leave. He crushed his fingers against his palm and looked at the writing with a ravenous fire burning inside his irises. Oh, they wanted to scare him. Yes, they all thought that it was possible to break him, but what they didn’t know about Kurapika was that he had already lost everything before. He didn’t care about his life. He had forgotten what kindness was a long time ago. Strangely, he knew that he had to feel this way. It was normal to be full of hope as he softly fondled his arms. He wasn’t scared at all; he was actually craving this war. He needed to show them how merciless he could be. After all, he was that kind of king, trapped inside his own kingdom of sadness and disaster. He had been born there; he had grown there. What they had adopted as their lifestyle was actually Kurapika’s essence. 

 

But for the moment, he couldn’t think about that anymore. A drawn outhorn could be heard in the corridor, announcing dinner time. Kurapika wasn’t really hungry, yet he knew that he needed to show up at the dining hall. Certainly, it was a trap to go there, and anyone who would have an inch of perspicacity wouldn’t go for anything. Kurapika, however, thought that it would be the perfect place to show off how confident he was right now. What was this sensation? He didn’t know. He wasn’t able to describe it. It was like something was driving his body, his every movement deeply controlled by another brilliant mind. Someone with an animal spirit and a self-confidence that no one could ever recreate. He felt this aura envelop him like a lovely dark light, guiding his senses and his feelings. 

 

_ “No one will fool you, kitten. You’re unbreakable.”  _

 

No one was there, yet, he heard it clearly. A soft and warm voice whispering those words in his ear. And then, like magic trick, he felt it. A long breath brushing against his neck, tender with a strong fragrance, teasing his senses like a fire licking paper. He recognized a firm grip over his waist and affectionate lips coming up to his earlobe perfectly, followed by merciless teeth nipping his flesh. A hand roamed over his body, hurtling down to his crotch to squeeze it shamelessly. Hair tickled at his forehead, and now Kurapika wanted something more than he had ever had. He was someone’s kitten. He had always liked to be a toy. He wanted to pronounce the shadow’s name, but nothing was coming to his lips. What was his name? Who was he? 

 

Kurapika spun on himself and discovered nothing but the emptiness of his cell. He blinked back tears and harshly swallowed his spit, disappointed to feel this way. He pinched his lips as he looked back at the wall, the red writing teasing his mind like a vicious clown he wished he had never known. It was terrible to ignore something he was sure to know. He needed to remember this man. It was almost impossible to think properly anymore because of how desperately he wanted to know. 

 

“Hey kid! You didn’t hear the alarm or what?” 

 

A guard hit one of the bars of his cell with his baton, bringing Kurapika back to reality. He blinked several times before he eventually nodded and walked to the exit of his tiny room. Violently, the guard slammed the cell’s door and pushed Kurapika forward in order to make him walk to the dining hall. Kurapika didn’t protest; he was used to that little power the jail’s personnel exercised over him. It was just another way to pressure them, and he had always understood this. In the end, even if they had uniforms, it wasn’t them who had the real power inside. With all the gangs and several trafficking rings, the guards were just some useful toys rather than truly figures of authority. 

 

After a few turns he knew by heart, Kurapika finally reached the refectory. And, what he could see was that the atmosphere was stranger than usual. It was quite quiet inside the room; all the prisoners were lining up to grab their tray or sitting to eat their paltry and disgusting dinner. The guard grabbed Kurapika by his arm and put him into the line to the kitchen. Kurapika silently took a tray from the  pile and waited patiently behind the others. He kept a poker face even if he felt his heart racing inside his chest. He knew that something was about to happen. He could feel it to the core. Yet, he stayed perfectly insensitive to that pressure, keeping his chin high and his eyes open. If all the devils were here, well, he was one of them after all. 

 

* * *

 

Chrollo was sitting at the back of the truck, perfectly calm and ready. He adjusted his collar and sent a friendly look Nobunaga’s way, though the other was expressionless. All the members of the Troupe were here, dressed in the same uniforms as the guards inside the prison. 

 

“This is certainly the stupidest idea you’ve had, Danchou,” Phinks said, pouting in his corner. 

 

The truck took a sharp turn and the massive blond almost crushed Shalnark who pushed him back, eyebrows furrowed. Chrollo smiled, confident and imperturbable. 

 

“You’ve always loved to take risks, Phinks. That’s a strange way to think for a man of action,” Chrollo replied as he opened one of his favorite books, setting it onto his thighs. 

 

“Well, I’m all up for risking my life for some jewels or something, but risking my ass for an outsider ain’t cutting it.”

 

“Watch your tongue, Phinks,” Nobunaga warned with a severe voice. “You know perfectly well the terms. Kurapika is one of us. And we voted, remember?” 

 

Phinks answered with a simple roll of his eyes and avoided contact with Nobunaga after that. He knew that Chrollo’s plan wasn’t up for debate. Almost a year ago, they had all voted to save Kurapika’s life, even if that decision had divided the Troupe for a while. Indeed, for some of them, Kurapika was nothing but a threat, and their leader's obsession for the last member of the Kurta clan had been a real problem. However, during the Auctions, the risk Kurapika had taken had somehow changed their mind. They knew that they owed him a lot because Kurapika hadn’t hesitated to jump in front of Chrollo and had caught the bullets which would had been devastating for the leader of the Troupe. 

 

“We have a debt to pay,” Machi confirmed, playing a card game with Pakunoda. 

 

“I know that,” Phinks muttered impatiently, still avoiding any eye contact. “God, if that clown was in front of me…” 

 

“Then, I’d be the one who’d kill him, don’t worry about that.” 

 

Chrollo hadn’t taken his eyes off his book when he had spoken, but his tone had been very clear. He had never spoken about that with the Troupe, but they had always known that Chrollo would be the one who would kill Hisoka. After all, he had betrayed them all and he had injured Kurapika severely. Machi took a look at Chrollo’s face, worried when she saw how peaceful he was. Something had changed inside of him. He seemed more patient and merciless than before, his grey eyes colder than ever. It was dangerous to upset a man who had been hurt deeply enough to risk everything. Uvogin, who was driving the truck, turned his head to look at his boss. 

 

“Danchou, do you see that?” he asked, pointing at something in front of the road. 

 

Chrollo’s eyes flickered up and he crawled to the front of the truck, careful not crease his uniform. An animalistic smile grew on his lips as he closed his book fervently. 

 

“Oh yes, Uvo. I see that.” 

 

* * *

 

“Next.” 

 

With his tray in his hands, Kurapika watched the cook put a shapeless mixture onto his plate. He didn’t show any emotion, but all he wanted to do was to throw that garbage away. Kurapika decided to remain silent and emotionless, preferring to choose a table in a corner to sit at. As he walked without saying a word, he could definitely feel eyes on him. He wasn’t stupid anymore; he knew that tonight there would be a war inside these walls. He needed to be prepared. He sat and crossed his legs under the table as he took his plastic fork, prodding at the food to analyzeit. He took his first concerned mouthful, taste-testing the horrifying food given by the prison. It seemed to taste just as it usually did, and somehow, he hoped that no one had put anything in his food. Well, he thought that they would rather make him suffer by their hands than with some poison poured into his dish. After all, they all wanted to beat him into the ground. Violence was something serious, more than just blood and wounds. Kurapika had learnt it; violence came with a code. And poison was something against that untold code. So, without hesitating anymore, reassured by these inflexible rules, Kurapika started to eat his meal like it was the most delicious thing in the world. He knew he needed to act casually, and moreover, to perfectly hide his other hand which was working under the table, sharpening his toothbrush shank that he had kept inside his pocket for months. 

 

“Here you are, little brat. How brave you are to come here. I thought the message was clear,” a voice said deeply with the will to sound scary. 

 

Kurapika lifted an eye from his tray and discovered a very confident Tompa. He was puffing out his chest and gazed at Kurapika with a smirk plastered on his lips. 

 

“You feeling lonely, Tompa?” Kurapika asked playfully. “Oh no, let me guess, you want to apologize? No one else wants to be your bitch?” 

 

“You better shut the fuck up kid, this isn’t  a fucking game here!” Tompa came forward, his lips rolled up like he was about to take a bite out of Kurapika’s face. “You’re gonna suffer like hell in a few minutes, and I can’t wait to see you cry and moan on the ground. Oh little bitch, you will fucking  _ beg _ for them to stop!” 

 

Kurapika smiled widely as he took another mouthful of his meal. He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t look away from Tompa’s face. His eyes were like spikes, ready to impale Tompa where he was standing. 

 

“I’m more than ready, Tompa,” Kurapika whispered as he continued to sharpen his bestial weapon under the table. “But you know, just between you and I, you’re so full of pent-up rage. You should probably see a therapist. I know a good one,” Kurapika added with a provocative wink. 

 

Tompa didn’t smile anymore as he slowly spun on himself, deciding to bury his ego somewhere else. Kurapika knew that during the near battle, that bastard would probably hide somewhere, hoping that no one would hurt him. He wasn’t a soldier nor was he brave. He had thought that Kurapika was an easy target back then, but it seemed that he had clearly underestimated his opponent. Kurapika knew it, and deep down, he felt a profound pleasure when he tortured Tompa, just to make him realize how weak he was. But, he couldn’t think about that anymore. In front of him, two tables away, a group of five men started to stand up. They didn’t take their trays, and immediately, one of the guards confronted them.

 

“Hey! What, you think this is some kind of luxury hotel? Take your trays and clear them right now!” the guard yelled impatiently. Yet, when none of them listened, he came forward. “Are you deaf or what? Take your trays and clear them!” 

 

“Sir, do you know who I am?” one of the men asked with a frighteningly calm voice. 

 

“What the hell?” the guard answered while he took out his baton. “I gave you an order!” 

 

The tall prisoner smiled as he grabbed the corner of his plate, sighing loudly. 

 

“And I asked you if you knew who I was, but it seems you didn’t pay attention either.” 

 

“I’m warning you, Mimizu, I’m not joking!” the guard retorted, a finger pointing at the disobedient prisoner. “Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll have some trouble, boy!” 

 

Mimizu, who was the tallest of his group, didn’t answer. Kurapika crushed his fingers around his toothbrush, already knowing that the conflict was about to start. There was something on Mimizu’s face that the guard should had seen: he was ready to lose everything tonight. He had nothing to worry about. Someone who had already seen that would have understood it, but the guard was already lost. Kurapika whispered a calm “idiot” when suddenly, things turned heated. Mimizu, without any warning, slammed his forehead against the guard’s nose and violently hit his throat with his tray, right in his Adam’s apple. The man fell to the ground, unable to speak or respond. He tried to pat his neck where he had been struck, eyes widened, but Mimizu then beat him once again with the baton he had lost in his fall. What cruel irony; the instrument of his tiny power was in the hands of someone who was supposed to obey. 

 

“Let me answer you then, little rat! My name is Mimizu, yes! And I’m the leader of the Shadow Beasts! And you do you want to know something else,  Emish?” Mimizu brought his leg back, tensing it, before delivering a powerful kick to the guard’s side. He couldn’t help but spit up some blood, moaning in pain. “I’m gonna rule this prison, and you know how? Because tonight, I’m gonna be so fucking rich!” 

 

Kurapika lifted an eyebrow, not sure he understood why Mimizu was talking about his future wealth. But then, Mimizu abandoned the guard and turned his head to look directly at Kurapika. He seemed crazy and out of control.

 

“One million jenny offered to anyone who can protect your tiny ass while you make your escape! And, who put this bounty in place, you might ask? The fucking Phantom Troupe themselves! How wonderful does that sound to you, ya son of a bitch?” Mimizu yelled, his eyes digging into Kurapika like they were about to explode. “One fucking million of the money I  _ should have earned _ if I wouldn’t have been caught because of your fucking friends, what fucking irony!” 

 

Kurapika stood up, hiding his toothbrush in his trouser pocket. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the faces which were staring at him. What was he talking about? He had nothing to do with the Phantom Troupe. He had never known them, except for that terrible night long ago when they had slaughtered his family. But during his trial, he had understood that people had mistaken a possible link between him and the Phantom Troupe. However, he couldn’t understand why the Troupe would actually want to help him escape. It was foolish. 

 

“I’m not a member of the Troupe. You’ve been fooled by Tompa, that’s all,” Kurapika said, facing Mimizu. 

 

Mimizu smiled, but then, he shook his head and reached for something inside his uniform. He took a little piece of paper out of his pocket and plastered it onto Kurapika’s torso. He grabbed it, took a step backwards to put some distance between them in order to prevent any attack, and looked at the paper. 

 

**_“One million jenny to protect Kurapika Kurta until Friday night._ **

 

**_\- Reversed Cross”_ **

 

Kurapika went blank, his heart beating inside his chest.  _ Reversed Cross _ . That pseudo, that name, he knew it. He had already seen it but where? When? How? His mind was working, twisting in on itself to understand where he had already heard it, how he could know it. This was a joke, right? He couldn’t be a part of the Phantom Troupe; they had destroyed his life a long time ago. They were responsible for his eternal sorrow, his loneliness. They were a disaster for his existence and yet… Yet, he was awed by the fact that, at this particular moment, he didn’t feel any anger toward them. He searched inside of himself for a second, but he couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel any hate, any bitterness. It was like everything had vanished. Was it because of the accident? What had suddenly changed ?

 

“So, you’re familiar with that name, aren’t you? You know who Reversed Cross is. We all know here. Their fucking  _ leader _ .” 

 

“Shut up…,” Kurapika whispered, more than lost. He couldn’t think properly. “I don’t know any of them!” 

 

There were some whispers in the room. Kurapika hadn’t noticed until now that the other members of the Shadow Beasts had subdued the guards. It seemed that among the prisoners there was a massive divergence: some of them wanted to kill Kurapika, however, the other ones were more attracted by the money, forgetting their arrogance and their animosity towards the Troupe. 

 

“Come on, spit it out! Stop being a liar and admit who you are! You should be so proud! You’re one of them, and they haven’t forgotten you!” Mimizu barked out, losing his temper. 

 

“I’m not one of them!” Kurapika yelled, tears inside his eyes. 

 

He couldn’t control his feelings anymore. Why would the Troupe want to help him anyway? It was a joke, a vicious and twisted joke. And like a strike of light, a sudden flash came to his mind. He heard a theatrical laugh and saw yellow eyes gazing at him, amused and ferocious. A gun was pointed at  that particular shadow, which had enveloped him so many times during the past few months. What was that thing he knew but couldn’t remember? All he could focus on was the name, Reversed Cross. 

 

“Stay back! Keep your fucking distance! He’s mine!” Mimizu yelled at someone. 

 

Kurapika came back to reality and noticed that some of the prisoners had moved behind him. He understood that they wanted to protect him, certainly in order to collect the reward once the Phantom Troupe came tonight. Kurapika took that opportunity and moved backward as well, coming closer. He didn’t like any of them, but sometimes, in order to survive, hard decisions had to be made. That decision pissed off Mimizu as his cheeks grew bright red and his eyes were nothing but vicious. He smirked as he saw that Kurapika was surrounded by at least twenty prisoners. 

 

“You’re just a bunch of cowards! Do you really think you’ll get the money? Do you really trust the Phantom Troupe? One million divided by what? Forty people?” 

 

“At least, we don’t kill just for pleasure!” one of the men behind Kurapika replied, his voice atrociously shaky. “You deserve your name, Shadow Beasts! You have nothing human in your heart!” 

 

Tears burst out of Mimizu as he laughed out loud. He stopped for a few seconds as the members of his gang encircled him. 

 

“Are you fucking serious? What are you, criminals with a big hearts, ugh? Just to protect a man who put you in here in the first place? For money? For honor? There’s no honor here!” 

 

“You’re disgusting,” Kurapika said lowly under his breath. “All you want is a bloodbath, you’ve just waited for an excuse…You don’t want to be rich. You have nothing against me. You just want to have fun.” 

 

Mimizu didn’t reply, but Kurapika saw something in his eyes. For a moment, all he could think about was a clown gazing at him with a playful stare. He felt like he was trapped between reality and his past; something he had completely forgotten about. Once again, the shadow was around him, protecting him from every threat, softly teasing his soul. He didn’t know why yet though, he was sure he needed to trust the Phantom Troupe’s plan. It was necessary. He was done picking apart Mimizu; the war was about to start. 

 

“You’re dead, Kurta! Dead as the name you have! Dead as your friends!” Mimizu snapped, fumbling for something in his pocket. 

 

Mimizu took out a rudimentary knife he had created. Kurapika immediately grabbed his own, ready to defend himself. The leader of the Shadow Beasts continued to smile hungrily as he jumped forward, causing a true battle to erupt in less than a second. They all started to fight: some of them to kill Kurapika, the other ones for the amount of money he represented. 

 

* * *

 

Leorio was cursing himself as he sat on his couch, reading over his notes after his last meeting with Kurapika. He had failed badly, once again. He had been unable to help him. What was his problem in the end? He couldn’t understand why he had always been so clumsy with Kurapika ever since the beginning. He had noticed that he had started to act differently towards his patient. Was it because he had always seen Kurapika as someone fragile, ready to break at any moment? Moreover, their bond had been more than just a doctor-patient relationship, but something more friendly in the end. Some of his colleagues had even asked him if he had been sentimentally involved with Kurapika. At the time, he had laughed fervently to their faces, but when he had witnessed Kurapika running up the stairs to join Chrollo, he had understood that he felt something deeper. It wasn’t love, not at all, but Kurapika had somehow become a little brother to Leorio, someone he had to save. 

 

Leorio cursed as he heard his phone ringing where it sat on the coffee table. “What again?”

 

He grabbed it as he massaged his eyelids and sighed. He put it up to his ear. “Leorio Paladiknight, I’m listening.” 

 

“Doctor,” a voice replied, and Leorio felt goosebumps appearing across his skin. It was a voice he couldn’t forget. 

 

“Mister...Mister Zoldyck, is that you?” Leorio asked, swallowing his spit. 

 

He remembered Silva Zoldyck’s shoulder span, his impressive muscles, and moreover his disappointment once he had heard that Illumi had betrayed him. Silva had been dismissed from his position after he had almost beat the police chief the night of the Auctions. He had totally lost his mind once he had heard that his son was partly responsible for the terrible mess that night, and moreover, because he had had a hidden  love affair with a notorious criminal. 

 

“Well if you’re asking, it’s because you already have the answer, haven’t you doctor?” Silva mocked, and Leorio could hear him exhale heavily, no doubt smoking a cigarette over the line. 

 

Leorio sighed and continued massaging his eyelids. “What can I do for you?” He groaned as his body ached, and he realized he was far more tired than he had thought. “What time is it?” 

 

Leorio had somehow lost track of time. He had been so intensely concentrated on Kurapika’s case that he had forgotten about the time, his duties, and his schedule. He looked to his right to find a digital clock on his wooden dresser and bit his bottom lip. Oh God, it was already two in the morning.

 

“Where you asleep, doctor?” Silva asked, bringing Leorio back to reality. “I have something to tell you. It’s about Chrollo.” 

 

Leorio felt like he had just taken a punch to the gut. His heart beat agonizingly in his chest, and it had taken him a moment to answer.

 

“And what about him?” He had tried to stay emotionless, but his voice was shaking over the phone. 

 

“He’s closing in on the one you hold so dear. You know, I have eyes and ears everywhere, and two hours ago, I heard that there was a massive mutiny inside the Yorknew Prison.” 

 

Leorio stood to his feet and yelled into the phone, “What? What are you talking about?” 

 

“Easy doctor. You won’t be able to get in there anyway. You’re just a useless therapist and I’m a fallen detective. None of us are truly useful at the moment. But I’m no a fool, and even though I had my episode, I have somehow developed a kind of respect for you.” 

 

“How kind of you, Silva,” Leorio replied, his voice like ice. 

 

Silva chuckled a little, then continued, “I’m not good at giving compliments, doctor. Anyway, I just wanted to warn you. Earlier today, a bounty was placed on Kurapika’s head. A price to let him live until tomorrow morning. You’re not stupid, are you, Dr.Paladiknight? Who would put a bounty on Kurapika’s head in order to save him?” 

 

Leorio cursed loudly and banged his fist against his drywall. He couldn’t believe. It couldn’t be true. Deep down though, he knew that the only reason why Kurapika would be saved by someone was because of something illegal and dangerous… Something passionate…Like Chrollo would be.

 

“How can we stop that?” Leorio eventually asked, profoundly hurt.

 

“Oh, come on now,  doctor. Do you still believe you can actually win against Chrollo Lucilfer?” 

 

Leorio curled his lips into a vicious smirk. He couldn’t bare Silva’s cutting remarks anymore. 

 

“Of course, I can. But tell me, Silva, do you still believe you can save your son?” 

 

And before Silva could even answer, Leorio ended the conversation by pressing the red button on his cell phone. Then he flung it off to the side. He stayed staring at the wall for a few minutes, the shadows on it moving and dancing like spiders on a web. Certainly, he had lost Kurapika in more ways than one. 

 

* * *

 

His fists were covered in blood. His breathing was painful and short like he had just run for miles without any breaks. Kurapika had never fought for his life like this before. He couldn’t think anymore, just act according to some incredible instincts within his mind. His whole body was reacting way before he could see anything. He was just in motion, fighting anyone who attempted to take his life. He thought, deeply, that a guardian angel was bent over him, slowly opening his wings in order to protect his life. His angel was terribly dark, probably as insane as he was, but he was smiling upon him, claws out to reveal Kurapika’s deepest instincts. 

 

“Come here, fucker!” Mimizu was yelling, yet he couldn’t reach Kurapika at all. 

 

Violence conceived violence. This had always been the human way, a silent law ruling over the world. Wherever violence was spreading its poison into hearts, it was impossible to stop it, a silent and dangerous illness. It was as if everyone was hungry for the flesh of the other one. Knives were out, fists were bleeding, and all the darkest mischieves were slowly coming to light. The guards had tried several times to stop the munity, yet they had failed miserably, unable to crush  this insurgent wave of pure instincts. They had been beaten to the ground, faces covered with bruises and blood. They crawled to the exit as they begged for help. The cafeteria had been locked from the control room, keeping the mutineers at bay and preventing any escape. Some metallic voices coming from the speakers were yelling at the prisoners to calm down. A repetitive horn could be heard even from the outside of the prison, and the control room kept asking for backup. Some of the guards in the cafeteria were already dead, and many prisoners were badly hurt or worse. Kurapika, however, was doing well. He kept fighting his opponents fervently until he finally faced Mimizu himself. 

 

“There you are, little cunt!” Mimizu shouted, wiping his split mouth with his hand. “Come and fight me!” 

 

Kurapika was driven by the situation, forgetting his deepest fears or his past. He had always ran from his problems, preferring to stay hidden in the shadows than to directly assault his enemies. He had always been afraid of everything, and he needed to exact his revenge upon life. Mimizu lunged at  him, but Kurapika was faster and thinner, and it was unexpectedly easy for him to anticipate any of his aggressor's movements. He avoided a slash of his knife and immediately responded by stabbing Mimizu with his toothbrush shank in his arm. The man screamed loudly, his eyes nothing more but two blazing fires in need of revenge. He pursed his lips, then took a deep and loud breath, before he attacked once again. This time, Kurapika felt that there was something different inside Mimizu’s eyes. He had never seen someone who craved his death like this. Kurapika jumped backwards, but he couldn’t elude Mimizu’s fist. He took it right to his nose and started to bleed. He put his palm over it to cover it and had no choice but to step backwards. Mimizu smiled like a wild animal. Kurapika heard a laugh inside his head, the memory of a clown playing with a deck of cards.  

 

“You’re nothing but a toy…,” Mimizu whispered, yet his voice was truly different like it was coming from someone else. 

 

_ “Just a pet.” _

 

Kurapika felt his heart quickly drop into his stomach, his mind tricking him like he had always hated. He felt a pain coming right from between his ribs like a monster clenching its claws into his belly to make him remember some blurry memories. He pressed his hand against his torso, right above his scars from where he had been shot. Yellow irises were watching him closely, a tear and a pink star painted on white cheeks. It was a blurry face, unfriendly and sadistic. The clown was laughing. The clown was about to kill him. Kurapika fell to the ground, suffocating, pearls of sweat rolling from his forehead. Why now? What game was his mind playing with him right now?

 

_ “I choose live.”  _

 

Nobody was talking. Time had frozen; everything was motionless. An old melody was slowly coming to mind; something he had already heard one day. Yet this time, it was specific and horribly real. Kurapika tried to close his eyes, to muffle that unwanted touch of memory, but he was unable to quiet his brain. 

 

_ “Live because I want to know if his anger will fade one day.” _

 

“Make it stop! Make it stop!” Kurapika cried as he crawled backwards to avoid Mimizu’s knife. 

 

He was overwhelmed by an ocean of emotions, submerged with fragments of memories. He didn’t want to fight anymore; he felt like he was drowning in his own mind. He saw Mimizu almost on him, his dark eyes wide as he was about to strike again, now perfectly sure that he wouldn’t miss his target. Kurapika wanted to give everything up, offer his entire body and even his soul to the darkness. What was he anyway? A pet? A broken toy? His mind would always say that, and he had no power to stop it. He closed his eyes, now ready to die. What was the purpose of his life anyway? He was a ghost of his former self, disturbing and forgotten. He was like garbage abandoned on the street. He had lost everything and everyone; he was alone with his sorrow, less important than dust itself. 

 

_ “I’ll come back and I’ll protect you! Don’t you forget that! Don’t you dare die on me! I’ll come back. I swear.” _

 

Toxic eyes looked directly into his soul. Gorgeous features surrounded by straight and messy dark hair. Grey, suddenly so much grey surrounded him. Deeper than Hell, brighter than Heaven. A long breath, warm and reassuring, an untold promise whispered into his ears. Kurapika suddenly opened his eyes, putting his arm in front of his face to protect his cheeks from Mimizu’s knife. He felt lifted by invisible hands, his legs light as feathers until he was back of his feet once again. He was desperate to survive, his dark angel back in his mind to protect him. Even if everyone had been against him his entire life, somewhere, somehow,  _ someone  _ had once cared about him. And he needed to fight for that thought. 

 

* * *

 

“Put your masks on.” 

 

The order had been served like an icy spike penetrating them. They were all ready to strike anyway. What they had heard when they had arrived in front of the prison was the piercing alarm coming from the inside. The entire building was dark; all the lights had been switched off by the guards, and they had heard a distress signal being sent out over the radio they had prepared before coming to the prison. It was the perfect time to strike. Dressed as guards, they went out of the truck, armed with batons and machine guns they had stolen from a military warehouse several months ago. Since they had needed to cover their tracks, they had waited to put the bounty on Kurapika’s head before coming  to the prison, preventing any cops from understanding their goal. 

 

“Shall we go?” Chrollo asked patiently. 

 

They all agreed with curt nods of their heads. Chrollo rolled a mask up over his mouth, covering the lower part of his face, even his nose. He had put a headband around his forehead, and nothing was visible except his dark hair and his grey eyes. They all imitated his gestures, and right after that, they presented themselves to the doors. The two guards inside the security post seemed totally panicked, looking at several screens showing the inside of the prison. 

 

“Guys,” Chrollo said loudly as he tapped the window of the tiny security post with his baton. “It seems you need some backup right now.” 

 

The two guards looked at the Phantom Troupe, eyebrows furrowed. One of them started to count them, and Uvogin started to lose his patience. 

 

“We were expecting a squad from West Side City’s prison. They said they would send about twenty people at least!” one of the guards told them skeptically. 

 

Chrollo searched through his dark uniform inner pocket and showed a badge to the two guards. 

 

“We are from Heaven’s Arena, the high security prison downtown. We were transferring a prisoner to court. We were on our way back to the city when we heard your call over the radio. We know how serious mutinies are, so we were sure you could use the backup.” 

 

“Oh…” The guard patted the back of his head, unable to respond immediately as he was thinking about the situation. Feitan, ready to kill them and open the gates himself, grabbed his machine gun more fervently, but Chrollo immediately sent him a look to make him stop. 

 

“Look, we know how to handle violent criminals. Heaven’s Arena is a zoo, and when they are arrested after their fights in the tower, trust me, we have to deal with animals. Let us in, you might need some extra hands quickly. Pretty sure the backup you asked for is on its way already.” 

 

Lying was a gift for Chrollo. There was no backup: they had already killed them all on the road. As he was talking with his calm and trustful voice, Chrollo pointed at one of the screens. The mutiny inside was getting out of control. Chairs and tables were littered everywhere and a puddle of blood was covering the white floor. 

 

“Okay, fuck! Go! Go right now!” 

 

Behind his dark mask, Chrollo started to smile widely. As the guards pushed the button to open the doors of the prison, he made a sign with his hand to invite his troupe to follow him. The chaos would be their most precious ally. With the panic, the fear, and the violence, the guards would be too desperate to be truly careful about letting them in. Chrollo had always known everything there was to know about manipulation; he knew precisely how to work someone. It was a piece of cake to fool them whenever they were in a stressful situation. Being confident was the key, nothing more. Giving the impression that they were the men in charge would be easy. Quickly, they progressed inside the prison. They managed to convince every guard to open the doors. Some of them even patted their shoulders, truly grateful, unaware of how dangerous they were. After several minutes, they reached the cafeteria’s doors. The noise coming from within was atrocious. Some guards had even sealed the doors off with heavy tables in case the prisoners crushed the doors from the inside. 

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa easy cowboys! What are you doing?” a sentinel asked, blocking the Phantom Troupe’s path. 

 

Feitan looked at him and calmly answered, “We’re going in.”

 

There was a period of confusion between the guards, and Uvogin took the opportunity to grab his machine gun and shoot at the doors, not to break them but to announce his presence. 

 

“What the hell? Are you fucking out of your mind?” a guard yelled, eyes wide. 

 

Yet Uvogin  loudly laughed as he walked up to the doors, pushing the furniture away. He grabbed the handle of the door and took a second before opening it. 

 

“You should really leave. It might get dangerous here.” Uvogin smirked before he almost broke the doors down with his large hand. 

 

As the Phantom Troupe entered the war, mixing themselves in with the mad crowd, Chrollo immediately started to look for Kurapika. After several seconds, he managed to recognize him, fighting against one of his greatest enemies. Chrollo instantaneously acted; he ran to help Kurapika as Mimizu grabbed  him from behind, already trying to break his neck as he used his large hands to put a deadly pressure on his bones. Kurapika was in bad shape: dried blood had spread onto his nose and his grey uniform and his face was covered with several bruises and open wounds. Chrollo didn’t want to use a gun to put Mimizu down; he had never been so angry before, so he wanted to go at this  the old fashioned way, the most violent way to punish the man who wanted to harm his lover. From his belt, he took a long and curved knife and drove it directly inside Mimizu’s jugular vein from behind. He stabbed him with a firm hand, then ripped his skin out. If the first strike had been quite surgical, the second action was definitely wild and enraged, without any feelings or pity for the victim. Mimizu immediately lost his grip on Kurapika, palming his neck as he struggled to breath. An awful gurgling came from his mouth as he tried to see who had stabbed him, looking desperately in every direction. Chrollo slowly walked over to his victim. He grasped his hair and almost lifted him off the ground, his face right above his own. Mimizu’s eyes widened, blood streaming from his mouth like an endless river. He tried to say something, but his wound was too deep to talk. 

 

“Oh yes, it’s me,” Chrollo whispered coldly. He adjusted his knife in his hand and slowly stabbed Mimizu in his lung until the man couldn’t breath at all. “Are you afraid right now, Mimizu? You know who I am. My hand and my eyes are everywhere, at any time. I’m the walking Hell on Earth, and you have definitely deserved your fate.” 

 

Mimizu convulsed several times, his face twisted in pain, until his eyes rolled up and his jaw fell down. Chrollo threw his body away like he was a bag of garbage before he wiped his dirty hand onto his jacket. He put the knife back on his belt and turned to look at Kurapika. He was trembling from his toes to his head on the floor, his blue eyes looking at Chrollo’s mask. The leader of the Phantom Troupe squatted down to face Kurapika and offered him his hand. 

 

“You need to come with me,” Chrollo demanded calmly, restraining his need to touch Kurapika. 

 

It was like time itself had stopped. Violence couldn’t touch them anymore. Kurapika couldn’t see anything else but this man’s eyes. He swallowed his spit, unable to look away. Everything was suspended in the air like they were inside a bubble, out of this world. 

 

“What are you?” Kurapika asked softly, almost secretly. 

 

Chrollo smiled under his mask, and Kurapika immediately noticed the tiny wrinkles around the man’s eyes, making them even more alive and protectful. He felt a strong and unexpectable warm feeling invade his entire body. Something he had felt once but hadn’t been able to remember until now. 

 

“What am I? Strange choice of words. Maybe who am I is better?” Chrollo answered warmly, his eyes exploring Kurapika’s features. 

 

Yet, Kurapika simply stroked his head. He wanted to express something, but there were no words for this feeling. 

 

“No…What kind of angel are you?” he asked once again, still shocked, his voice sleepy like he was trapped inside a weird dream. 

 

“The worst kind,” Chrollo answered as he came forward to grab Kurapika by his waist and lift him up into his arms.  

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Say hi ! on my tumblr: <http://madlymiho.tumblr.com/>
> 
> Say thanks! to my beta reader : <http://yaoiobsessedwrites.tumblr.com/>
> 
> Find my Yuri !!! on ice fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9120484/chapters/20728225)


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